Splinters and Fragments
by Maeve of Winter
Summary: A collection of short ficlets, mostly Dan-centric. May contain slash or het.
1. Contrasts

Author's Note: This story takes place directly after the events of Castaway Children.

* * *

The kitchen of Crabapple Farm is abuzz with people- the Bob-Whites, the Dodges, police officers taking statement-s- and Dan suddenly feels suffocated. He weaves through the clusters of people and slips out the door to take in some fresh air. Mart catches his eye and throws him a concerned glance, but Dan waves him off.

Dan chooses the back patio over the front porch- he doesn't want to see the half dozen cars flung around the driveway, barricading him in.

The summer air is growing cooler, and he can see the fiery sun disappearing behind the Catskills in the distance. The breeze glides through the evening air, singing through the grass and sending waves of cold to tingle against his skin.

Though he can hear the activity in the house behind him, a sudden feeling of isolation envelopes Dan as he simply stands and watches the darkening sky. The moon is slowly emerging, and the stars will soon follow- light from a million years past, traveling through time and distance to lend their brightness to Earth's darkness.

The night would be barren and empty without the moon and stars- but the moon and stars would never be noticed without the inky blackness of night.

No stars without night; no good without evil. Light cannot be seen without darkness to shine through.

He doesn't know how long he stays there, listening to the breeze hiss, ruffling the grass, and gazing at the fading sunset in the west. Dusk is only a brief time, but it heightens the minutes as well as the shadows.

A shift in color out of the corner of his eye, and then Regan is striding toward him. Before Dan can so much as move, Regan grasps his shoulders, standing before him, holding him there, as though trying to comprehend that Dan is tangible, Dan is safe.

Stunned into silence, Dan can't even find his voice when Regan abruptly wraps him in a rib-crushing hug.

Regan seems to understand, and they embrace wordlessly as night falls.


	2. Meet Me at the Fair

Music and light from the carnival rides blur around him, and the chatter and laughter of fairgoers fills the air, but Jim is unable to push aside the anxiety brewing within him.

"I'm really glad you were able to visit during the state fair," Dot Murray tells him.

His pulse quickens at her words, and anxiety twists his stomach. The Iowa State Fair. It's already August. Once Dad finishes his business in Iowa the day after next, they'll go back to New York. And then less than a week before he leaves for college.

"Are you all right?" Dot asks him, concerned. "You seem pretty stressed."

Jim sighs, exhaling slightly shakily. "Just nervous," he admits. "This whole college thing . . . it's a big change. I don't know if I'm ready to say goodbye to everyone, you know?"

"Things will definitely change," Dot agreed. "You'll be able to adapt, though, Jim. If anyone is good at meeting new people, it's you."

"Thanks. I'm so grateful to get college advice from a high school senior," Jim remarks dryly. He changes the subject away from himself. "What about you? Visited any colleges yet?"

"Started last summer." Dot grins. "About a dozen of them, all with figure skating programs." Her smile slips slightly, and there's a weary note in her voice when she adds, "Mostly ones three or five hours away from here."

"You'll do great," Jim says truthfully, clapping her on the shoulder. After all of his own worrying, it feels cathartic to reassure someone else.

"Thanks." She smiles, but then it fades. "I'm not so sure. I've loved ice-skating for years. Now I feel like I'm losing my edge. My parents are bound and determined that I'll win a scholarship, though, so . . ." she shrugs. "How's everybody in Westchester? Does Trixie wear that bracelet we bought for her?"

"Not . . . really," Jim hedges.

Dot laughs. "Well, I guess that's the last time you listen to girl advice a hopeless romantic like me," she jokes.

Jim sighs. "She's dating Dan Mangan, another member of our club."

Dot instantly sobers. "Oh, Jim, I'm so sorry."

Jim shakes his head. "Don't be. Dan's a good guy, and Trixie really likes him. I'm happy for them. We're all still friends. And . . ." he struggles to articulate his line of thinking. "In a way, I think she's better off with him than she would be with me."

Dot doesn't speak, but gives his shoulder a squeeze.

In an attempt to dispell the awkwardness, he asks about Dot's boyfriend. "How's Josh?"

"Josh is . . . fine," Dot replies haltingly. "I think we're going to part ways soon, though. Things are going to be busy enough during senior year without a relationship, too. We'll probably break up amicably, and stay friends afterward."

Jim nods in silent agreement. He knows how she must feel: it's difficult to let go of someone you care about, even when it's necessary.

 _Friends._

They continue walking in silence, listening to the various sounds around them. It's a deluge of whoops of laughter, jaunty carousel music, and the chatter of the crowd.

Looking at Dot, Jim takes in her graceful form: long, slim limbs toned from hours of athletics every day, excellent posture, and a lovely face set upon gently angled cheekbones. Her gleaming gold tresses are tied with a ribbon into a high ponytail.

There's no doubt: Dot Murray is beautiful, even glamorous.

Yet the clothes she's wearing are surprisingly tomboyish: denim cutoffs, a short-sleeved sweater with wide navy and white stripes, and neon pink ankle socks that match the swooshes on her blue Nike running shoes.

Jim catches Dot's eye and smiles at her. "Thanks for bringing me out tonight, Dot. It's nice of you to take my mind off of worrying."

Dot returns his smile and gives him a light punch in the arm. "No problem, Frayne. What are friends for, after all?"

 _Friends._

Though he nods in agreement, Jim can't help but dwell on the girl in front of him, as well as another boy and girl pair, and think about what was, what is, and what almost certainly never will be.

* * *

Author's Note: The part about Dot Murray and Jim selecting Trixie's bracelet together and Dot encouraging Jim to give it to Trixie comes from a story called "Dancing the Polka Dot," by Lydia. It's a wonderful story, and I recommend checking it out.


	3. Buried

"I can't believe you cut class yesterday, Daniel."

"I skipped a fire safety assembly. Like I needed it- my home involves interacting with fire on an almost daily basis."

Brian listened unenthusiastically from the tack room as he cleaned his riding gear. He had his fill of bickering at home between Trixie and Mart, and he was not eager to hear more of it from Dan and Regan. Family arguments quickly became tiresome and draining to witness.

There was a brief pause, a rustle of paper.

"It says here that instead of attending the assembly, you went to the school library." Regan's tone was incredulous. "Look- when kids your age cut class, aren't they supposed to do something cool, something fun? Hit the movies, or hang out at the video arcade?"

"I have a term paper due later this month, and I wanted to get a jump start on it."

A few beats of silence.

"You're grounded," Regan declared, deaf to Dan's protests. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a business trip by request of Mr. Wheeler."

"Where to?"

"The horse auction outside of White Plains. I'm taking Honey, Trixie, and Jim."

Brian knew about the auction; Regan had invited all of the BWGs to the auction at Honey's suggestion. Or, at least, most of them. Judging by Dan's sudden silence, he had never gotten word of the events.

Regan strode out of his office and past the tack room, exiting the stable. Moments later, Brian heard another pair of receding footsteps, with a quiet, even stride that was belied by the resounding slam of the stable doors that followed.

Brian sighed as he hung the last piece of tack. He felt guilty for his accidental eavesdropping and awkward about being exposed to the problems plaguing the family of two of his friends.

Regan was usually a strict disciplinarian who Dan constantly strove to impress, but in the last few weeks, Regan's parenting style harshened till it bordered on authoritarian. Now, he demanded to know Dan's exact plans when going out, the specific people he would be hanging out with, and the precise time he would be home. Any vagueness in any of Dan's answers was suddenly greeted by Regan with impatience, exasperation, and derision. Sometimes Brian wondered what had brought on the change in behavior, but truly, it was none of his business.

Finished, Brian turned to leave, but a nagging feeling stopped him. Oh, right. Trixie had borrowed his chemistry notebook yesterday, for whatever reason, and then left it down here. Regan had mentioned earlier that he'd found it and placed it in his office for safekeeping.

Walking into the office, Brian located the notebook easily; it was sitting out on the desk, an opened envelope and letter nearby. Intending to grab his notebook and leave, Brian was dismayed when the notebook slipped from his grasp, sending its papers and the letter cascading to the ground.

He grabbed the hodge-podge of papers from the tile floor and began sorting through them, skimming the text of each sheet to locate Regan's letter amongst his notes.

He found it, and then wished he hadn't.

- _now that he has stabilized and advanced beyond the turmoil in his life, I must emphasize that an isolated log cabin in the woods is hardly a suitable place for a young teenager to be raised. I believe the time has arrived for me to reclaim custody of my son_ -

Brian dropped the paper as though it had burned him, his hands shaking. He hurriedly left the stable, the bright sun outside suddenly seeming cold and distant, as the letter's contents echoed in his mind.


End file.
